


Give Me To A Rambling Man

by ama



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, Late at Night, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/ama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is night and the road ends just beyond the headlights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me To A Rambling Man

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my own nighttime drives through South Hadley, Massachusetts. Title is from a Laura Marling song.

It is night and the road ends just beyond the headlights. Eddie sits in the front seat, one leg crossed over the other in an attempt to fit into the space, and he can’t help but stare out the windshield, breathless and unmoving. He has never imagined that a night could be this black; the fog rolling in down the valley obscures the edges of everything and the trees are creeping close. They cover the hills, cradle the houses, lean over the road like giants. The street lamps are few and far between, and his heart pounds as the car moves forward—smoothly, and the hum of the engine reminds him of the way you blow out that first lungful of cigarette smoke—because the headlights reveal something new and unknown each time. Very often he sees a curve only moments before they are supposed to turn, and his breath hitches as his fingers dig into the fabric of his trousers, but Andy never seems shaken. He guides the car effortlessly down the winding road, and sometimes hums to himself. Fragments of off-key songs that Eddie, as hard as he might try, just can’t recognize.

Suddenly a jagged bolt of lightning appears, leaping towards them like a snake, and Eddie sucks in his breath loud enough for Andy to notice. He is embarrassed when he breathes out again, a second later, as he realizes that it’s only the zig-zagging guardrail lit up by the headlights of a car going the other way. They haven’t seen many other people tonight. They pass small farms, isolated towns, places where people don’t see the need to leave their homes this late. He finds it comforting. The whole world has shrunk to this car, and the limited stretch of road visible to them.

"Sorry it’s taking so long," Andy says.

"Blame the construction."

"My short cut isn’t doing us any favors, either."

"I like this way," Eddie says quietly. He stares straight ahead and wonders what lies before them, that deep deep blackness surrounded by feathery grey fog and the gold warmth of the headlights. How long will they continue straight on, and when will the turn leap in front of them? He can barely make out the dividing line painted on the road, and he wonders in the back of his mind whether Andy will miss it, too, and they will wander too far left and never notice until their eyes lock onto the twin glare of an oncoming car. He can’t hear anyone coming, doesn’t see even the faintest glimmer of company, but they say you never hear the one that gets you.

This could be his last night on earth, here on this winding road in the middle of the Massachusetts nowhere, but other than the racing of his heart he doesn’t feel afraid. The trees and the fog are comforting, and Andy is tapping his fingers on the wheel in an irregular rhythm.

"You don’t think it’s creepy?" Andy suggests, the corner of his lips angling just slightly upward. Eddy snorts.

"No. I like it."

"Me too. I used to come down here every summer to live with my grandparents for a few weeks. Grandad taught me how to drive on these roads."

That’s why he fits in so well here, Eddie thinks. That’s why he has never felt like a city boy no matter how much he talks about factories and sitting on concrete steps with his nose in a book. Because every summer Andy would come out here and wander through the trees, lead imaginary charges of phantom warriors down the gentle mountain slopes, come home with summer grass sticking to the back of his shirt and in between the pages of his books, race horses and cows and motorcars across the long open fields. He pictures Andy as a teenager, hair cut too short, driving a car down these roads in uncertain, jerky movements. It is hard to imagine Andy without his confidence, that easy assurance that makes him so damn likable, but he must have existed in that state at some point. This kind of environment, clustered in between the divots of mountains, is welcoming enough to nurture the uncertain. Eddie thinks of adolescence and Andy and feels like he’s been admitted into something secret and private. He smiles to himself as he reaches out and cards his finger’s through Andy’s hair, taking his eyes off the road for the first time since sunset.

Andy smiles, doesn’t make eye contact, glances down and then looks back up. His shoulders square and Eddy chuckles softly to himself as he draws his hand back.

"My grandma still lives around here," Andy says after a moment. "We could stay with her tonight, if you’d like. She wouldn't mind, and it’s still two hours away from home—that’s a lot to go in one night."

"I’m okay," Eddie shrugs, pulling one leg up onto the seat. He folds his hands over his knee and resumes his sentry position, head straight and eyes fixed on the perimeter of light. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Andy says. A bend in the road appears, sharply, but the car doesn’t even stutter as he guides them in the right direction. Softly, barely discernible over the content rumbling of the engine, Eddie begins to hum a travel song, and Andy tonelessly joins in.


End file.
